When Satyabhāmā, filled with curiosity, questioned the revered sage Nārada, he replied, “O Satyabhāmā, this supreme attainment is won through the gift of Tulāpuruṣa.” Inspired by his words, Satyabhāmā, together with Krishna and the wish-fulfilling tree, performed the sacred rite: she weighed Krishna and the tree as prescribed, offering them both to Nārada. Gathering all that was required, Nārada accepted the offerings and, thus honored, ascended to heaven. After Nārada’s departure, Satyabhāmā’s face shone with joy. Turning to Vāsudeva himself, she spoke from her heart: “I am truly blessed. My life has found its purpose, and my parents are blessed as well, both for giving me birth and for their very role as my parents. Among the three worlds, none is more beautiful than I, and among your sixteen thousand wives, I am your beloved. O Primeval Person, it is I who have offered the wish-fulfilling tree to Nārada, together with you, following the proper rites. Even those dwelling on earth who hear this tale will know that the wish-fulfilling tree now stands in my house. I am the most cherished by the Lord of the three worlds, the Lord of Śrī. Therefore, O Madhusūdana, I wish to ask you something. If you desire to please me, tell me everything in detail; having heard it, I will again do what is truly beneficial for myself. O Lord, may I never be separated from you, according to your will.” Hearing these loving words, Krishna, the elder brother of Gadā, smiled gently. Taking Satyabhāmā by the hand, he led her to the place where the wish-fulfilling tree stood. There, dismissing all attendants and onlookers, he remained alone with his beloved, delighting in her company. With a radiant, thrilled body, Krishna addressed Satyabhāmā, his smile full of affection, wishing only for her happiness. He said, “O beautiful one, there is no one dearer to me than you. Among sixteen thousand women, you are as precious to me as my very life. For your sake, I have even stood against the king of the gods and the other deities. Whatever you desire, O beloved, listen now to what great thing may come to pass. Be it a difficult task, something unyielding, or even unspeakable—ask, and I will answer you. Ask anything that rests in your heart.” Satyabhāmā, longing to know the mystery of her destiny, asked, “Was it some gift, vow, or austerity that I performed before, by which, though born among mortals, I have become your consort in this world? Always sharing half your body, riding upon Garuda, I have entered the abodes of Indra and the other gods with you. Therefore, I ask: what good deed did I perform? In a previous birth, what was my character, who was I, and whose daughter?” Krishna replied, “Listen attentively, O beloved, to the vow of virtue you performed in a former birth; I shall tell you everything. At the end of the Krita age, in the city of Maya, there lived a foremost Brahmin named Devasharma, of the lineage of Atri, learned in the Vedas and their branches. He was hospitable, ever attentive to the sacred fire, devoted to the solar vow, worshipping the sun daily, like another sun incarnate. He had a daughter named Gunavati, a woman of excellent qualities and advanced age. As he was childless, he gave her in marriage to his disciple, Chandra, whom he cherished as a son. The disciple, in turn, honored him as a father. “One day, the two—father-in-law and son-in-law—went together to the forest to gather kusa grass and fuel. As they wandered at the foot of the Himalayas, they suddenly encountered a fierce rakshasa approaching. Overcome with terror and unable to flee, both were slain by the rakshasa, who appeared as death itself. Yet, due to the sanctity of the place and their righteousness, my attendants, who dwell near me, led them to Vaikuntha, my own abode. Throughout their lives, they had performed sun-worship and other sacred rites, and by these actions I was greatly pleased with them. “Know, O beloved, that Shaivas, Sauras, Ganesha-worshippers, Vaishnavas, and Shakti-worshippers—all ultimately attain me, just as all rivers reach the ocean. I alone am born in five forms, playing with different names, just as a man named Devadatta is called by various names as son and so forth. Then, these two, dwelling in my abode, riding celestial vehicles, radiant like the sun, equal in form to me, remained ever in my presence, enjoying divine pleasures and the fragrance of sandalwood.” Thus, Krishna revealed Satyabhāmā’s former life, and the chapter in the Padma Purāṇa, recounting the dialogue between Krishna and Satyabhāmā, came to its close. Krishna then continued the tale of Gunavati. Hearing that both her father and husband had been slain by the demon, Gunavati was overwhelmed with grief and lamented sorrowfully, “Alas, lord! Alas, father! Where are you going, leaving me behind? I am but a child—what shall I do now, helpless without you? Who will care for me with affection, providing food, clothing, and all I need, now that I am destitute in this house and lack all skill? Unfortunate, bereft of happiness, with my protectors and very life destroyed—today, helpless and childish, to whom shall I turn for refuge?” After much lamentation, Gunavati, deeply afflicted like a grieving curlew, collapsed to the ground, distraught, like a plantain tree struck by the wind. After a long time, she regained her senses and lay on the ground, weeping bitterly. Submerged in an ocean of sorrow, she was overwhelmed by grief. Yet, summoning her strength, she sold all her remaining possessions and performed the proper funeral rites for her father and husband, as best she could, fulfilling the auspicious ceremonies according to her ability. Gunavati continued to live in the same city, sustaining herself by her own efforts. She remained devoted to Vishnu, peaceful, truthful, pure, and with her senses under control. From birth to death, she faithfully observed two vows: the Ekadashi fast and the Karttika vow, never failing in their proper observance.